


No Postage Necessary

by raijuthehyeju



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e05 Saints of Imperfection, Episode: s02e06 The Sound of Thunder, Episode: s02e07 Light and Shadows, Episode: s02e08 If Memory Serves, Fluff, M/M, Minor Keyla Detmer/Joann Owosekun, POV Outsider, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raijuthehyeju/pseuds/raijuthehyeju
Summary: One went in, two came out of the Mycelial Network. Maybe some things were left behind or couldn't be recovered.But sometimes, the littlest things are what help us make it through the biggest, most difficult times.|| Set somewhere in between the events of 2x05, 2x06, and onward ||





	1. See Inside for Details

**Author's Note:**

> love me some bridge folks being supportive to other crew members || first chapter takes place after 2x05 || will add the second chapter/more material once more eps for season 2 come out b/c i'm a slut for canon-compliance || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

The last things Ensign Sylvia Tilly remembered before fainting in Engineering were three events:  
1) nearly crying in front of the staircase as she and Michael watched Commander Stamets weep over Doctor Culber returned to Discovery, 2) Dr. Pollard scrambling in with a few technicians trailing her to attend to the returned rescue team, and 3) feeling the cold hard floor thud against her head before the full effects of a faint were felt once she took three steps in Discovery’s world again.

And that was how, now, Sylvia found herself in Sickbay on an examination bed.

Michael, she assumed, was the least affected by the Mycelial Network, and permitted to leave after a quick scan from Dr. Pollard’s tricorder to prove her vitals were normal and showed no sign of fungal infection, leaving Sylvia alone to sigh and be a mixture of bored and nervous as all hell as to what the network may have done to her… organs? Atoms? DNA? The possibilities were near endless, especially whenever the nebulous nature of these space mushrooms were involved. The Jah’Sepp, May- their technology in terms of the biological was incredible, that much was true, but was she really as much of herself as much as when she went in? Moreso, was that how Doctor Culber was reassembled, even with the technicality of Jah'Sepp having human DNA to work with? The two, she realized, had both been transported between space and fluctuating dimensions, broken down and reassembled in their own ways, Sylvia squinting as she remembered the pain that shot through her skull when May drug her out of the cocoon into the harsh, eerie light of the network...

But even as she lied on the exam bed and her head swam with a thousand possible analyses, her eyes glanced over to Commander Stamets, who was currently hovering over a sleeping Doctor Culber being monitored by Doctor Pollard, Sylvia feeling a tired grin crack at the edge of her lips.

That right there was probably the happiest she’d seen Stamets in months.

Sylvia couldn’t help but feel like a little bit of a creeper, watching him like this- but seeing him so tangentially overjoyed was a sight she wouldn’t forget for a long, long time. Sylvia remembered one morning in particular when she’d come into the Spore Drive chamber, wiping his eyes furiously and looking quite red as he quickly shoved a PADD into his pocket and insisted everything was alright… and to see him now? Looking down at the man who, even unconscious, seemed as if he was his entire world and nothing was more beautiful than him? It was a sight too comforting to describe, and she was content to observe Dr. Pollard and the Commander, as the white noise of Sickbay monitor’s gentle beeping and the ever-present rumble of Discovery’s warp drive gave off the familiar, bass-like hum that even the Academy warned that you’d get “uncomfortably used to.”

Though as she opened her eyes more, she realized it was  _very_ bright in Sickbay and she was notat _all_ used to the fluorescent lighting of Discovery.

“Eugh… Dr. Pollard?” she felt herself croak.

The two whipped around at the sound of her voice, surprised to see both of their faces relax in relief (with even Commander Stamets looking slightly worried?).

“Tilly,” the Commander sighed as he trotted towards her with Dr. Pollard, “how’re you feeling?”    
“Exhausted,” she admitted, stretching out a leg as she felt a knee pop, “Ugh, also the light’s really strong in here… is this what you see whenever you unplug from the network, Commander? Or is this just how Sickbay is like, all the time? I dunno how you stand it if it _is_ then, feels like I’m at an old school styled rave or something--”

“You gave Burnham and I a bit of a scare earlier,” Stamets admitted in a fretting interruption. “We assumed you’d passed out since you and Hugh were the only ones who’d passed through the network via the cocoon…”

“Honestly with how I feel, that’s- probably pretty accurate to gather,” she agreed.

“Other than being sore, Ensign,” she heard Dr. Pollard press, Sylvia’s attention immediately shifting more upright, “how do you feel?”

A paused “uhhh” hung on her lips as Sylvia took assessment of her own body. Sore? Tired? Emotionally whiplashed after seeing her superior’s significant other returned to the living and witnessing a biological wonderland that wove the fabric of the multiverse together?

“Like I could sleep for about a week,” she chose to surmise, “but other than that pretty alright. ...How’s Doctor Culber? If I can- ask, that, I dunno if that’d be classified or anything-”

“It’s interesting, to say the least,” Pollard described, Sylvia noticing the Commander’s face ebb with the beginnings of a grin again. “On all accounts, it’s completely him reconstructed from… what did you call it?”

“Let’s just call it a ‘cocoon’ for short at the moment,” Stamets summarized, a gaze unwilling to shed his hidden elation and relief, “I’m still trying to designate a formal scientific name for it with what remnants we have.”

“Right. The ‘cocoon’ did a remarkable, if not perfect job of--”

_“Of what, Dr. Pollard?”_

Captain?  
Captain Pike, that was the Captain's voice, oh my god, the Captain’s in here and she was just in Sickbay scrubs covered in cocoon juice--

All three’s attention immediately turned to Captain Pike, whose hands were behind his back as he strut into Sickbay and assessed the two occupants in Dr. Pollard’s section. While his attention was, of course, initially glued to Doctor Culber, he turned to give a wide grin at Sylvia, Pike seemingly exhuming a natural charisma that was complemented by relief.

“The prodigal Ensign,” Pike began as he strolled in, “and Lazarus himself.” He mused to himself in silent thought, offering a calm nod to the three as he approached. “Good to see you both back here with us. Dr. Pollard, thank you for your care.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“You’re feeling alright, Ensign?” Pike asked her. “We risked quite a bit coming to get you out of the network; I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to those Black Alerts, especially moreso now-”  
“Oh don’t worry about me Captain, please,” Sylvia insisted, slowly rising up and off the table as she spoke. Commander Stamets instinctually offered a hand to help her down, Sylvia giving him a nod and a grin as she regained her composure. “I'll be fine. A little weirded out, sure, b-but I’m thankful, really thankful. I heard it got uh, a little hairy there on the bridge, I’m--”  
“I'm hardly the one to thank- Stamets here was the one who proved we _could_ do it in the first place,” Pike quipped with an approving nod to the Commander, “I just gave him the green to let his plan go through with it. ...And I’m glad to see we’ve returned with a veteran of Discovery’s along for the rescue ride, too.”

“Me too,” Sylvia piped up as Stamets let go of her hand once standing by herself. “Did you, ah… get a chance to read the report on how he--”  
“I did, Ensign, and I’m even more pleased to see him back because of it. ...It’s another reason I’m not too keen on our Section 31 liaison being on board now that Doctor Culber is here," he said a little more quietly, "but that’s between you three and me strictly off the record. I want Tyler far away from this Sickbay until Doctor Culber here is of sound enough mind; for both of their sakes.”

She sat Stamets’ lips try not to writhe in subtle disgust, though definitely not at Pike.

“How’s he looking, Dr. Pollard?”

“Even from my beginning scans, Captain, it seems as if Dr. Culber is… radiant, for a lack of a better term. All cellular levels, homeostasis at a near even balance… almost everything seems fresh. Basic brain waves look regular according to his last checkup, but even preliminarily we cannot rule out symptoms of acute mental shock, PTSD, and other forms of possible trauma. We need to be monitoring him in a place where he would comfortable and has mental support, should he wish to return to duty and/or civilian life."

“Keeping him aboard would give him a familiar environment, is what you’re saying,” Pike gathered. “Has Starbase 23 finished reviewing his initial entrance report?”  
“Not fully, but they haven’t found anything off yet and what our equipment here couldn’t already remedy.”

“So he’s staying with us?” Tilly asked as she tried to mask her excitement. “He doesn’t have to go to the Starbase? Wouldn’t-- oh hey uh, how will the rest of the crew find out,” her train of thought realized, “there are a _lot_ of people onboard Discovery right now who went to his funeral after the Paris ceremony, sir-”

“And I would _appreciate it_ if he had some alone time in sickbay without people coming to gawk thanks to gossip,” Stamets bristled.

“Well, that would make things a little complicated now if they walked in and saw a supposed dead man lying here, wouldn’t it. And we don’t want people concocting conspiracy theories against our official report and Doctor Culber, either.”

The Captain flashed his eyes to a sleeping Culber, then back to Tilly, Stamets, and Pollard for silent approval.

“Computer; Pike to bridge. Bryce, open a shipwide channel.”

“Yes sir.”

The Discovery’s AI pinged with the beginning of a broadcast.

“Discovery, this is Captain Pike. Today, we have brought back from the brink not merely one, but two of Discovery’s own: Ensign Sylvia Tilly, to whom we made a promise... and, another passenger; to many of you, a healer who Starfleet said goodbye to far too soon. Thanks to the very network this starship weaves in and weave out from to jump across the tissues of space, not only did Ensign Tilly survive, but Dr. Hugh Culber has returned to our ship and the waking world, alive, and is currently under medical evaluation. ...If you are to see Dr. Culber around the ship at any given time either as civilian, on-duty, or in medical facilities, I ask that you continue maintaining professional, but welcoming, interactions as the Doctor recovers. Thank you all for your cooperation today, your courage, and your camaraderie for your fellow crewmates, and pushing the envelope of science further every day. Pike out.”

The Computer gave a ping to conclude his transmission, the silver-edged Captain grinning at the group before him for approval.

“Honesty is the best policy," he said with a light shrug. "...Sometimes. Most of the times. As much as you can allow, when you can afford it. Stamets, Tilly: you are free to relieve yourselves from duty for the rest of the day should you so wish as is Commander Burnham; Dr. Pollard, please let me know when he’s coherent and/or clear enough to be willing to speak with me.”  
“Yes Captain,” Pollard agreed. “He’ll need time.”

“Then let’s give him some well deserved rest. ...Thank you all.”

And Captain Pike slunk out in that smooth way that he had a habit of doing, effortlessly commanding respected attention no matter where he went.

Did he _really_  have to go back to the Enterprise? Couldn’t he just be Captain here? Forever? The Enterprise could find another captain, there were probably like a billion captains gunning to get in on the Enterprise anyway--

“Do you need anything else from me, Dr. Pollard?” she finally asked as she drew herself out of a thought train rabbit hole.

“You’re good to go, Ensign,” she promised with a calm smile, her eyes drifting to Stamets who  was already looking attentively over a sleeping doctor. “As are you, Commander. But I’m not about to _make_ you leave.”    
“I spent enough time away from him, Doctor,” he told gently, “I don’t know if I could bring myself _to_ leave right now.”  
“You’re welcome as long as you like here, Paul; so long as you don’t wake him up. But do rest soon; you’ve been through a lot in the span of an hour, too.”

God, it was so weird to hear other people call him by his first name. Beginning to feel like the odd one out in the conversation, she gave a meek grin at the two as her arms folded in on themselves.

“I’m taking the Captain up on that ‘rest of the day off’ offer myself, I’m exhausted- and that cocoon feels so weird, ugh- like I-- simultaneously feel like I went to a spa _and_ got hit by a truck… ‘s what happens when your- _atoms_ are brought back together I guess, but y’know. ...Are you sure everything’s good, Doc- do you need to do another test--?”

“Everything checked out, Tilly,” Pollard assured her again. “I’m just glad to see you back safe and sound.”

“Trust me, me too,” she managed. “Commander, I’ll have my full report about my observations in the network written up by tomorrow morning, I-”  
“Take your time on it, Tilly,” he urged her with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “As long as you finish it before we hit Starbase 23, I’m happy.”   

She began to step back, bowing her head. “See you later. ...And, uh, Commander,” she added, holding up a finger but quickly pulling her hands back together as she turned back around. “Thank you. For uh, coming to get me. ...Michael told me how hard you worked on the theory proposal to do a half jump, and how it was just- gonna be you before she volunteered.”

Sylvia’s chest bloomed from the fear she’d tried to push down when she saw Stamets’ face soften and his lip firm upward, looking down to shifting feet before pulling his relieved expression back up and with a new, straightened posture.

His throat seemed to look a little tight.

“And leave the best Ensign in the Command Training Program in some mycelial purgatory?” he crooned proudly. “How would _anything_ ever get done in Engineering. ...Glad to have you back, kiddo. It- wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

It was then Sylvia looked back up to Stamets and decided that he was the best fucking boss she’d ever had in her life.

Confidence manifested in the form of a quick nod, trying to swallow a lump that suddenly and _very_ inconveniently shoved its way into her throat as she recalled the group hug Michael, Stamets, and her all had before Doctor Culber emerged from the pod. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Or in the Mess Hall, whichever comes first- tell him get well soon when he wakes up, okay?”

“In spades.”

And with another quick nod and a quiet “Thank you again, Dr. Pollard,” she ducked out of the  room, hands wrenching around one another.

As she walked through Discovery’s populated corridors, it hit her all of a sudden: Sylvia Tilly was back. Back on the starship she called home, back in the real world… well,  she supposed that wasn’t entirely accurate: the Mycelial network and all its fungal inhabitants _were_ their own “real” world, May’s existence was as valid as hers despite being on the other side of reality- but she was back, and with her boss’ partner back in tow. Doctor Culber: someone who she’d wept over openly at his funeral as she remembered standing beside Michael for comfort, Detmer somberly silent and Owo providing what support she could, Stamets’ puffy eyes already red and exhausted from mourning as he gave a beautiful eulogy for his Hugh after the speaker let him have the floor, days and weeks afterwards where the Commander would simply sit in silence, occasionally rewatch Doctor Culber’s video messages on his break… and for someone like Stamets, who’d given so much for Discovery, its crew, his science, his own body and life _multiple_ times? Stamets deserved him back. Deserved him back _regardless_ of the work he did, for it was unbearably cruel how Doctor Culber was taken, but even moreso for all the fruits of Stamets’ labor for others- because he deserved something good in his life, too.

Seemed like the universe _could_ be kind, sometimes.

As she entered the turbolift to her quarters’ level and her emotional high was starting to come down, Sylvia slowly realized she still felt sticky from… whatever the hell was on her left over from the network.

And the cocoon.

God, she didn’t want to say it, but that thing looked like a giant turd.  
A giant, weird, pulsating turd.  
And the giant turd’s remnants were still on her; in her hair, jacket, undershirt…

Yeah, she needed a shower right now. A _water_ shower.

* * *

Later that evening, Sylvia was relaxing at her desk, passing time by reviewing drafted paragraphs of her report on the Mycelial Network to Commander Stamets. Her and Michael had a good, decompressing talk about everything: a good old-fashioned cry on Sylvia's part, ramblings about what the network looked like outside of Discovery's hull, what the cocoon was like in being broken down and reassembled again, and just how incredibly advanced the Jah’Sepp were in everything biological from a technological standpoint, a small joke about her Type 3 phaser rifle she had pointed at her and the Commander that even got a crack out of Michael… and right now, her roommate was out to the Mess Hall, hellbent on bringing them both back some evening tea for their nerves to relax and eventually sleep off. Sylvia’s PADD had been pinging over the past couple hours with multiple texts coming in from people in Engineering, a group message for Spore Drive Collaborators down there she’d named “Mush Squad,” individuals from the Bridge, and a chat room she’d named “Disco Ball,” aka the bridge crew. The only three people on the Bridge and not in the chat were Captain Pike (for obvious reasons), Saru (for even _more_ obvious reasons), and Agent Tyler (since no one was really keen to let the _Section 31_ _officer_ in on _personal_ chat logs). Finally, deeming she had enough energy for digital social interaction, she opened up every private chat she could manage.

_DETMER: <hey girl hope you’re doin ok ;). know you’re probably really tired and exhausted but i’m so so glad you’re here and safe and alright. joann sends hugs too but she prolly already messaged you. sleep good, and when we stop at starbase 23 you better get yourself one of those aromatherapy sonic shower tabs.> _

_OWOSEKUN: <hi sylvia!!!! I missed having you on the bridge and i’m glad you’re ok and pls pls pls rest well tonight! Let keyla and i know if u need to talk or wanna stop by, we’re off our omega shifts at 2200 and are going to right to bed; u gotta tell us all about the network!! If u can, it might be classified> _

_RHYS: <you’re not getting out of paying me back for that romulan ale shot that easy ;) glad ur ok, sylvia. we all missed you; dream of cool mushrooms tonight. or don’t??? maybe you’re tired of them, idk <3 > _

_BRYCE: <sylvia! Aaa! You’re ok! Love you so much, glad you’re back and ok and WOW there was some crazy shit that happened on the bridge while u were in the network, lol. captain‘s dunks on tyler are amazing. Talk soon and pls rest!!!> _

_AIRIAM: <I am beyond excited to have you back aboard Discovery, Ensign Tilly; I missed your company on the bridge and it will be welcome to have your face around again. It pleases me that you are safe, and I await seeing you among the “Disco Ball.”> _

_RENO: <glad to hear you’re back, kid. knew those mushrooms couldn’t hold you back. get some rest and get back to engineering soon; I’m this - _ (an 'ok hand' emoji was placed here)-  _close to tearing stamets’ head off sometimes and i could use some help. > _

While grinning wildly at Detmer’s use of her winky face (the wink, she always insisted, was supposed to represent her cybernetic eye), the latest -ping!- was a personal message from “LT. CMDR. STAMETS,” a numbered notification sending off a mixture of dread and astonishment that oh my gosh, Boss just texted me and I have no idea what he’s gonna say. She had on-duty messages from him in spades, of course; mostly reminders to finish write-up assignments, pictures questioning what this was or inquiring as to the work she’d done in mathematics analyses… but this was the first time he’d texted her on a personal-designated channel.

Her finger jittered on the desk for a few moments as nerves got the best of her.

Finally, she tapped the name to open the message.

 _STAMETS: <This is hard for me to write, Ensign. But it’s something I need to. I know I can be... difficult at times; as a Commander, researcher, scientist, whatever… But thank you again, Tilly. I’m so glad you’re home and that you’re safe. You told May in the network that “I lost everything when I lost Hugh,” ...and you were right. It's been hard these past months, and thank you for the support you've tried to give during that time. And now thanks to you, I got a lot of that ‘everything’ I lost back today. Not all of it, of course; we’ll need to pick up a lot of pieces as he recovers… but you really did amazing, in this case. Rest well; the Cultivation Chamber and everyone in Engineering has missed you. :) _ _  
_ _PS: He woke up for the first time about an hour ago. Quiet, but that’s understandable. And, among a few other things we talked about, he ‘apologizes for his ass.’ > _

And when she’d already been fighting back tears, this last message made her wipe at her eyes.

She began to mash out a reply through hard sniffles.

 _ <Tell him it’s completely ok, Commander. We’re just happy to have him back. I know what it's like to come out of a gross fungus cocoon and not know what's happening. And thank _ you _, ok? Glad you and Burnham are safe, too. Have a good night. You guys deserve it. :). > _

And with a tap of her finger, the message was sent-- oh god wait was that ok? Was that alright to send? Why didn’t she have Michael red it before she sent it, that might’ve been too much. Ugh.

Sylvia's head rapped a hard -thunk- down against her desk as she looked back to the PADD at her smushed face’s side, leaving it to just sit there, judge her... but she relinquished, unlocking it again two seconds later to rove through her messages again to read them for comfort’s sake.

Little notes, messages like this… words were always nice, of course, but physical/digital remnants for people to go back and read through in times of uncertainty were always so comforting.

Comfort. A very human thing to get through very human times.

Her brain rabbit trailed to a certain Commander she’d just texted back, and then the man at his side whom he’d no doubt stay beside until the wee hours of Discovery’s day cycle.

What sort of gestures like that were comforting? What sort of reassurance could she and others offer besides respectable distance as Captain Pike had instructed?

Sweets? No, she didn’t know what he’d like.  
Flowers? The Commander would probably get jealous, knowing him; god knew if Starbase 23 would even have any _good_ boquets on board, and Commander Saru _certainly_ wasn’t about to let anyone go into his quarters and prune any Kaminarian flora.  
Gifts? What the hell would he want?  
A card?

A card.  
A card!

Everyone should write in a card for Doctor Culber!

With hands clamoring for the tablet, she navigated her PADD out of messages to see if she couldn't find a storefront catalog for Starbase 23, hoping to see if there was, perhaps, an art supply depot, trinkets, or some sort of oddities store. Stationary was hard to come by out in space, but _someone,_ some _species_ had to have need for it somewhere for _something_...

The door to her and Michael’s quarters wooshed open, Burnham cocking a curious eyebrow at her with two steaming mugs of tea in hand.

“You look awfully excited,” Michael crooned, setting a cup on her desk as Sylvia watched her take a seat on her own bed. “Have an idea about something?”  
“Yes yes and _please_ tell me if this sounds stupid, I already sent a text to Commander Stamets without you proofreading it so I feel extra stupid so I wanna be sure,” Sylvia began, turning to the side in her chair. “Now, I was thinking for Doctor Culber, when we get into range of Starbase 23...”


	2. Delivery Delay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest to get Doctor Culber the letters continues: but is it still the right thing to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || 2x08 kicked the shit outta me in the best way possible and this idea wouldn't leave me alone until i did it || takes place between episodes 6-8 and a little after 8 || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

**< DISCO BALL>**

**_< PHOTO UPLOAD “capture-at-1431” TO GROUP CHAT;  
LOCATION TAGGED: Starbase 23, Lower Promenade>_ **

_ <hey y’all which one of these looks good???> _

_ <Several people are typing…> _

_BRYCE: <get the white and silver one! For medical!!!>_  
_DETMER: <no omg that’s boring! Get the one with the drawing of the vulcan chapel on it>_  
_OWOSEKUN: <YES!!!>_  
_RHYS: <??? keyla pls explain>_  
_DETMER: <once during one of my checkups doc told me abt his visit to rome and how he liked the architecture>_  
_BURNHAM: <Why not get all of them? I have a suspicion that there will be many people who want to sign it.>_  
_RHYS: <yeah the more the merrier>_  
_OWOSEKUN: <i know i’m gonna be writing a good sized paragraph>_  
_AIRIAM: <Owosekun is correct: there will be many who wish to write copious amounts.>_  
_DETMER: <yea do that, thx girl!>  
BRYCE: <do u have enough credits on you? We’ll be happy to spot if u need more for next temp shore leave>_

_ <i got it guys! thank you!!! <3 > _

_BURNHAM: < :) >_  
_DETMER: <hey since we’re all here can S O M E O N E IN WEAPONS TURN DOWN THE VOLUME ON THEIR HEADPHONES I CAN’T FOCUS ON MY ORBIT COORDINATES>_  
_RHYS: <so what ur saying is turn it up louder, got it>_  
_OWOSEKUN: <gen how do u even hear anything anymore>_  
_BURNHAM: <I could very easily vocalize to Captain Pike that the noise is disrupting my work, too.>_  
_RHYS: <fine, god>_  
_DETMER: < ;))))))) >_

 

And with that, the cards were paid for with her Starfleet allowance that wasn’t reserved for her accumulated civilian social budget and took the transporter back to Discovery, not quite leaving before buying herself a couple of off-duty treats along the way (which may have included a six pack of Andorian beer, a couple of exclusive poetry periodical downloads for her PADD, and some sonic shower aromatherapy tablets). The starship was on the tail of another signal suddenly, so they couldn’t stay for long, and immediately Ensign Sylvia Tilly put the cards into circulation in their appropriate places. A message board called <DOCTOR’S ORDERS: Discovery-crew-wide project> was created to keep track of who had what card, who was signing, where it’d been passed off to (Sylvia having enough sense to embed a tracker in the card stock’s fibres to keep an eye on them with her PADD), Sylvia and Burnham both pleased at how fast they seemed to be making the rounds.

Then Kaminar happened, and people still found time to sign the cards.  
Then the time rift happened right _after_ Kaminar, and crew members still passed the cards around and made sure to check in with Ensign Tilly.

It was another layer of residual pride Sylvia had to be working on Discovery that, hey; war and other weird space shit didn’t make _complete_ bastards out of us.

Tonight, she’d gotten back the two cards from the bridge crew, which just left Engineering’s the one she had to collect. Michael was out looking for Spock, of course, so Sylvia’s quarters were quiet, instead taking the time to hang out with Discovery’s navigator Detmer and chief ops analysis officer Owosekun. Keyla, freshly showered and in her Starfleet-issued pajamas (which hey, who was the lucky fuck who got to be employed by Starfleet and design _pajamas,_ she wondered), her ginger hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and away from her augmentations as she scrawled out her letter at the desk. Owosekun, meanwhile, sat on the bed opposite to Sylvia in the chair, typing on a PADD of her recent findings of how Kaminar’s rings interacted with conventional Starfleet transports compared to what they analyzed of Ba’ul transporter energy signatures. It was a pleasant hangout; the computer played some soft Saurian electric house, Owo found comfort in holograms of old 21st century lightbulbs and candles, they’d cracked open a bottle each of that beer she bought… and they continued their conversation, Keyla having recounted her earlier visit to Sickbay.

“I dunno,” Keyla sighed, her lip in a bit of a pout as she scribbled. “He just seems… outta sorts.”  
“That makes sense considering what he’s been through, doesn’t it?” Joann offered.  
“Yeah, but… moreso. Like he’s hit a wall and doesn’t know how to get around it. I tried to joke with him after my implants were inspected and I saw him in there, like ‘ahhh, you’ll think you’ll be assigned back to my robot noggin if you come back on staff’ and everything, but… nothing. I got a little grin but that was about it.”  
“Did you hear when he’ll be released from Sickbay?” Sylvia asked.  
“Apparently he’ll be discharged tomorrow or in the next couple days,” she relayed. “He _did_ tell me that, at least. Hope the CMO will be able to give him some good therapy sessions, the guy deserves it…”

Keyla fell silent in her scribbling, Sylvia watching as Joann got up from the bed, walk slowly… and then spidered her way over Keyla’s shoulders from behind as she tried to get a peek at what she was working so furiously at, setting her chin on top of the other woman’s head.

“That’s cute.”  
“Stop it, I’m not done yet.”  
“Are you drawing something?” Sylvia piped, feeling a smile spread from the residual mushy feelings these two seemed to leak.  
“Yeah, it’s her head because of course it is,” Joann told in a chuckle as Keyla wiggled a little in her seat, trying pathetically to free herself from Joann’s hold around her shoulders.  
“And you’re gonna mess me up if you keep doing that.”  
“Oh, am I?” Joann stopped to kiss the top of Detmer’s haired half of her head. “Fine; I won’t disturb the artist,~” she crooned, her hands dragging from the pilot's shoulders as she drifted to the bathroom.

As the door wooshed closed to the restroom, Sylvia’s head craned up and over with a playful little grin on her cheeks.

“Can I see?”

Detmer stopped, her eyes rolling up with a smirk as she flattened her hands down against the card.  
She looked to Sylvia. The Ensign was relieved to see a grin growing wider.

“Sure.”

And she picked up the card, showing off the lower right hand corner to see not only her paragraph (which she wouldn’t read for privacy’s sake), but also miniature, stylized heads of the entire bridge crew. There was Michael with her new ‘do, Pike giving a smarmy grin, Saru with a blueberry a half-finished Detmer head with a wink and a simplified version of her implant… and even Sylvia herself, with all her ginger hair flared out and giving a big wide smile.

“Ok,” she told, “this is the best drawing anyone’s ever done of me ever and you’re really really good at it. Look at Bryce, he’s got the earpiece in for comms, you got all of Airiam’s faceplates, and Rhys… pft, I like the grin you gave him--”

Keyla was trying desperately to hide a smirk and _not_ look proud of her work, tapping the pen against her desk. “Thanks. I drew a lot when I was a kid, teen, cadet in Starfleet, even used to sell some of my art back in the day... picked it up again after the Battle of the Binaries so I’m kinda starting over.”  
“Well,” Sylvia assured, handing the card back to Detmer, “I think he’s gonna love it.”

 

* * *

 

Despite Keyla’s forewarning, Sylvia Tilly felt like things were going back to normal.  
At least she hoped they were, anyway.

Then the next day, she saw Commander Stamets walking Culber back to their room, and overheard a little of _that_ conversation.  
Then she saw her boss’ pained expression as he tried to fix dinner on the Mess Hall materializers, wondering if she should say something as she sat with Saru as he carted off dinner back to their quarters.  
Then Hugh came in. By himself.

Then the fight happened.

Then the jump to Talos IV happened. ...Or didn’t, rather- and the Commander stormed out of Engineering after the failed jump without another word.

And Ensign Sylvia Tilly felt very, very confused and was very, very thankful Michael was back.

Captain Pike had allowed his returned Commander Burnham a moment of respite to unpack and recollect herself (which, hey, escaping Section 31 and going to a Federation-restricted planet after finding your brother? Acceptable), leaving Michael to catch up to whatever the hell happened on Discovery while she was gone to her own devices. The duffle bag made a sound as it flumped onto the bed at Sylvia’s recounting of what'd been going on with the ship while she'd been away: the time rift, Tyler, Pike... and inevitably, Doctor Culber and Commander Stamets over the past couple… _hours_ , Michael staring at her in disbelief.

“He did _what_?”

“Yeah, imagine all our faces when he just- slaps Agent Tyler’s tray out of his face and knocked the whole freaking table over,” she told as she took in a breath. “Commander Saru was uh, actually the one who let it keep going, too. Said it needed to ‘play out.’ Doctor Culber even like, knocked Tyler over _another_ table, I had no idea he was that strong… well I guess I, kinda did, he’s stupidly ripped--”

She watched Michael nod, trying to process the information presented to her. First coming back from a Starfleet-banned planet with her recently-proven-innocent-but-still-accused-murderer brother, then trying to outrun Starfleet itself, now finding out that the man you helped pull out of mushroom purgatory beat up your ex-boyfriend…and at this point, it looked like she just wanted to unpack her duffle already and be done with the day rather than return to duty.

“Did Tyler fight back at all?”  
“Only to get him to stop or defend himself, really; it was… Doctor Culber the main one coming at him.”

She watched Michael digest emotional ramifications in her usual way, contemplating and recounting her analysis of every situation brought to her like she always did. Her soundness in mind and logic was always a comfort to Sylvia- especially now, when everything you thought wouldn’t happen, _did_ happen, feeling like a residual slap in the face; and it wasn’t even to Sylvia herself.

“Saru was right,” Michael told her. “This was gonna happen eventually. It’s better they were able to… ‘vocalize’ it, I suppose, rather than internalizing, but not to this height, not this level of anger… has he been scheduled for any consultation/psychiatric therapy? Anything?”  
“From what I heard, this was the first day he was let out of Sickbay to his and Stamets’ quarters.”  
“And Tyler?”

That caused Sylvia to look up. “What about him?”

Sylvia read Michael’s face as if she were mentally backtracking the words that had just left her mouth because of the emotional implications of them. With a lick of her lips, she looked down, then back up to the warp-speed lighted wall of their quarters. “Nothing.”

Sylvia wasn’t about to let that hang for Michael. “I don’t… know how that’d apply to Tyler. With him I’d have no idea what _Section 31_ offers in terms of psychiatric therapy, and I haven’t exactly been keen on… talking. To him. Which kinda seems like a jerk move saying it out loud but he’s been- kind of a jerk in the past too, so- maybe if he were more humble about what he did to Doctor Culber rather than acting so defensive about it, but-”  
“I know what you mean,” Michael assured. “I know.”  
“He did say something kinda interesting, though, when they were near stopping.”

Michael looked up to her in question.

“Hugh said ‘he didn’t even really know who he was anymore’,” which left a small glimmer of sympathy for him in Michael’s eyes, “and Tyler told him ‘who d’you think you’re talking to’ or something along those lines.”

She watched Michael’s jaw readjust as she pondered over this revelation, thinking to herself and obviously needing more time to ‘compute it all,’ Sylvia supposed. “Thank you,” Michael told her,  Sylvia returning with a nod as she sat down at her desk.

“I just… what do you think I should do  with these, Michael?”  
“Well, definitely keep them for now, that’s for sure,” she told with a heavy sigh, taking off her Vulcan jacket and folding it for her side of the closet, “there’s a lot of love and effort that went into those notes. And I think… you already might know who the best person is to ask about that.”

Sylvia nodded.  “I’ll ask him tomorrow. It’s my turn to start up the diagnostic tonight anyway, so I’ll have some alone time to think about it.”

She took a sip of her “green drink” that she’d stolen from the Mess Hall after the failed jump, the only white noise the eternal hum of the warp engines and the rustling of stashed laundry.

“Hey Michael?”  
She gave an inquisitive hum as she continued unpacking her bag.

“What was Talos IV like? Other than the, Red Angel stuff and Spock, of course--”

Sylvia watched Michael’s face go through a process of inward confusion, revulsion, and pained acceptance all at once.

“...Enlightening.”

Well. She wasn’t exactly wrong, was she?

So, Sylvia offered her the next best thing she could think of: an Ensign Sylvia Tilly trademark sympathy grin with a shrug.  
And in exchange, that got her a smile from Michael.

“At least the plant life was beautiful. Would you believe me if I told you their flowers sang?”

It was Sylvia’s turn to smile back. “What would you get out of lying about something like that to me? C’mon, tell me about ‘em; I don’t have that diagnostic shift for another three hours.”


	3. Processing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes if postage is delayed, you gotta call the office itself.  
> Or at least, one half of the metaphorical office in this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happens after the events of 2x08 || feed me more mentor/student friendship with tilly and stamets || last chapter to be added when ARE AT LEAST SOME SEMBLANCE OF HAPPY AND TOGETHER AGAIN || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

_REYES: <hey when u go to start the diagnostic tonight could u grab the card off my console??? I’m sorry I completely forgot to get it and give it to u in mess hall once I signed it :(>_  
_ <No problem; you just had the one right???>  
REYES: <yeah sorry again!!! Thank you so much>_

Those three hours of respite were up and Sylvia Tilly was back heading down to Engineering, passing Reno on the way and telling her sure, she’d be there for the plasma reroute, of course as she shouted back over her shoulder. At the graveyard shift of 2300 hours, the Ensign was thankful that she’d be the only one in the lab tonight, it looked like, happy to stew in the silence of mycelia and the machines that helped bring them to life. The stairs down to the terminal consoles gave that metallic echo as she skittered to her typical (not assigned) station, entering all proper protocol and giving the voice-approved commands to begin the system-wide diagnostic. This included algorithms analyzing software _and_ remote drones going into the hardware, so she was staying a while, taking the card off Reyes’ terminal before she forgot. Nearly every space was filled, it looked like- crew members drawing little squiggly lines to indicate their sections, signatures, little one-liners… she didn’t read in detail, as per tradition, and tucked it into her safe keeping.

That was when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the “OCCUPIED/IN USE” light was on for the Cultivation Chamber.

The Ensign furrowed her brow, dashing over to the screen at the side to access the Engineering shift schedules… and nope, she was right- she was the only one supposed to be in here, much less the requiring-special-permissions-to-enter ”greenhouse,” as Reno has called it.

It couldn’t be.  
Could it?  
Well, with the day’s events and knowing how this was a prime “thinking zone”... yeah, it very well could be.

So, thankful for her recent promotion to Ensign and the hand she’d had in the Spore Drive itself, she breathed on the console and the door slid open, revealing her very-suddenly-spooked boss sitting on the platform that led down to the stairs of his mycelial forest.

Once she got over her initial surprise, she deduced that the commander, to her great sadness, looked like a “hot mess;” his eyes were red and his hair was slightly disheveled, patchy blush skirting his pale skin and he seemed… tired, overall.  

“Really not in the mood right now, Ensign,” he warned with an unsteady voice, turning back around and setting his PADD to the side. He’d neglected to close its application, however, and Sylvia recognized from her viewpoint that it was the standard photo app that he’d been scrolling through.

“Yeah I was just… uh… w-wondering who was- in the Cultivation Chamber this late at night, and, uhm.”  
The back of his blonde head rocked once. “Well, now you know. It can’t be that hard; there’s only _how_ many people approved to have access in here?”

She’d been with her boss long enough that he was doing this attitude on purpose.

So, she straightened her posture and came at it again.

“You’re… not scheduled and you’ve had a long day,” she offered, “you should be sleeping--”  
“I don’t _want_ to,” Stamets told her cooly, “tonight I’d rather be _working_ .”  
“With all due respect Commander,” she began, taking slow and gentle steps towards him, “hanging off the steps with a PADD and going through pictures isn’t exactly ‘work’,” Sylvia pointed out carefully.  She paused, eyes darting between Stamets and the space beside him on the empty platform, taking in a deep breath before prying further. “...Mind if I take a seat?”

Stamets looked up to her to give her a glare; it was a poor one of his, entirely sleep deprived (which normally had power to it, but in this case it just accentuated his exhaustion), weary, and seemingly puffy from earlier… emotions, lacking any words of dismissal as he looked back down and out over his fungal crop.

But he still didn’t answer her and no way in hell was she about to do that without his explicit permission.

“...C...c-can I--”  
“Did you start the diagnostic already?”  
“Yes sir--”  
“Then yes,” he sighed, “you may.”

So she sat down beside him, following his gaze to let her eyes wander around the Mycelial crop as neither wanted to be the start of this inevitable conversation.

“...it’s rather I _can’t_ sleep,” Stamets started.  
“You’re in here on days when you _can_ sleep, Commander.”

He rolled his eyes, Stamets’ glance going down to the card in her hands. “What’s that you’ve got there?”  
Shit.

“Uh, it’s a, uhm--”

Her eyes widening slightly, Sylvia quickly simulated the idea of pulling a fib and nope, that was a no-go, she was _not_ about to start lying to her boss especially with how he was right now--

“...Okay fine; you know that- thing we’ve all been trading around in Engineering the past couple of days,” she admitted, passing it to him. “I kinda, sorta, maybe, uh… started a ship-wide card. Project. Thing. For him, for- Doctor Culber. When we stopped at Starbase 23 before Discovery left for Kaminar, I got a bunch of cards, and Detmer and Owo and I had them all passed around,” Sylvia offered him, her voice evening out as she watched his eyes scan each entry in the card. “We got ones for bridge, medical, engineering, docking, security... I think nearly everyone onboard Discovery’s signed in less than like, two days, there’s 10 at my last count? I haven’t read all of them, I’m not that micromanaging- But we thought it’d help, if… you weren’t the only one putting in all that effort to make him feel welcome, Commander. ...I got the idea after people were texting me the first night I was back.”

He finally cracked a grin at that last bit, shutting the card and rubbing where both sides of it met with his thumb.

“This is really nice, Ensign,” Stamets assured her with a small nod, Sylvia feeling herself beaming at his approval as she took it back. “This is… yeah. I’m impressed you all kept this project hidden from me this long. I just thought it was an, archaic HR survey or some other, writing it on paper--”  
“To be fair you _have_ been really into work, lately,” she admitted, “and a little preoccupied with uh, C--”  
“That and when you don’t sleep much, your attention span to anything else drops to zilch. Though I don’t think there’ll be a fix for that soon outside a prescription from Dr. Pollard.”  
“Is there something else up with Doctor Culber?”  
“No, I mean…” his eyes screwed shut. “He and I had a... talk. In the Mess Hall, after the fight. Before I got down here to try and get to Talos IV by jumping. If that’s why I looked a _little_ out of sorts, it’s…”

Stamets waved a hand with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t good. He’s… staying in a guest room right now. And he put in a request to have his own single guest quarters tomorrow. I… I can’t,” Stamets spat out, “I can’t sleep in a bed, knowing that… he could be next to me. But he’s not. And on his own accord.”

That honestly left her a little speechless. Her mouth opened and closed trying to figure out what to say, but instead empathy frothed at her mouth and she swallowed her heart, turning her gaze downward.

After all that? After everything he’s been through, what they’ve _both_ been through?

“Commander, I’m… I’m sorry--”

“You were there,” Stamets said with an air of distance to his (occasionally) gentle voice. “You… you remember what he was like. You stopped him from being shot. You cracked the solution to bring him to our side, and you saw him and I when he came out of that organism, and…”

He paused, furrowing his brow as he tried to sit up.

“Is it me?” he asked with a laugh of depreciation as he looked to Sylvia, watching her boss’ heart shatter in real time before her very eyes. “Am I just… that bad? Annoying? Selfish? Too much for someone who’s? Literally back from the dead? Is it me? It has to be, I’m the one who- practically suffocated him when he first came back and was a shithead when he was alive, I-”

Oh, she’d been here before; this had to stop now. “C-commander-”  
“I just couldn’t believe it, he even asked ‘why I had his things still out,’ and-”  
“C-commander Stamets--”  
“-then he tells me to move on? Just like that? Like I didn’t- didn’t have to stand at his funeral reception and comfort his mothe--”  
Her voice cut through his all at once. “Commander!”

Stamets looked near offended in his surprise at her demand’s intensity.

“Sorry that was, a little louder than I intended it to be, I just know that always works with me--... but Commander,” she started, letting out a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding, “it’s not _just_ you.”

He shut up, he listened, but his eyes left her gaze as they fell downward and Stamet's head turned back out towards the forest of fungi.

“With all due respect, sir… you’ve-- stabbed yourself with a mechanism that you weren’t even- 100% sure would work, or if you’d _live,_ to make a ship jump across the fabric of space and looked at the… nearly the whole _universe._ You injected yourself with completely alien DNA, all because Discovery was in danger. You changed yourself _forever_ with those implants because you give yourself to your passions. Y-you kept working here, working for Starfleet, with all of _us,_ even though we all thought he was gone. You’re a-- scientist who was willing to go into a space… mushroom… dimension… pocket, just to get back one person. One. Me, of all people. And we got to come back with two. You are… the _least_ selfish person I know, Commander Stamets,” Sylvia assured, “and above anything, _anything_ you get outta me tonight, I want you to know that. There’s lots of people on this ship who look up to you, you know...”  
She paused, wrenching her lips in. “And that includes me, too.”

This finally got the Commander looking at her again, all in verification, melancholy, humility… and his blue eyes looked her all over, a relieved grin helping to turn his frown, at least, a _little_ upside down. And really, why shouldn’t it? A pause hung as she thought about everything, everything about who this man really was: Lieutenant Commander Paul Stamets: galaxy and federation-famed mycologist (with or without the “astro” prefix included), the only living human crossed with interdimensional tardigrade DNA, pioneer of a ship that could possibly revolutionize the way Starfleet continues its exploratory mission… and here she was, talking to a man who’d be written about in history books, about how his partner cold-clocked a human-Klingon hybrid secret agent and didn’t want to sleep with him anymore.

Oh god was she gonna go down in history books too? What about, even? Actually there was a lot of science that had been broken through while she was here on Discovery, she _was_ the youngest ensign to enter into the Command Training Program, and okay not now Sylvia this is for a _much different time_ and _not_ when you’re trying to comfort your boss--

“I think… it’s a less doing something ‘wrong,’ Commander,” Sylvia started, “and more to do with just… giving him some space, y’know? Doing less, as- weird as that sounds, for right now. You’ve- already shown how much you’re willing to do for him, i-it’s not that. But you’ve both been in… really tough spaces. It's been a lot in a _really_ short amount of time, even though it can-- feel like eons sometimes... And sometimes we have our own ways of getting out of them. ...L-like for example, those days when we couldn’t cheer you up in Engineering,” she recounted, though his lips thinned a little in her recounting, “we could only do so much, Commander. You had to have… your own space, y’know? And if you came to one of us or we could do little extra gestures like getting tea, bringing extra carb bars from Mess Hall, covering late night shifts, we’d try our best to let you know that… hey. Your team’s there for you. You made us work hard, but we grew from it, got better at it, and we’re willing to give that back. We’ve all… changed. I don’t-- wanna be all grim and be like ‘war, war never changes’ or some crap, but… we’re all different people than when we first started off on Discovery. And changing, isn’t… necessarily a bad thing, I’d like to think. Burnham’s changed, _I’ve_ certainly changed, Saru, Bryce, Detmer… and even you,” she pointed out, gaining his attention again, “you changed. You got-- w-with the tardigrade DNA, working with us on the Spore Drive, terraforming an entire _planet,_ Commander! We’ve changed, and… gotten better, I’d like to think. People change in life, and we change along with them. We just gotta let them know we’ve changed and _they’ve_ changed too. ...When Doctor Culber was here, he was with you when you were adjusting to the Spore Drive’s effects, gave you space when you needed it-”

“I was never _angry_ at him, though,” he finally said in a staggered voice. “He couldn’t even give me a reason. I’ve never been- confused like that before with him. ...Scared.”

She was silent at that.

But out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia saw empathy wash back over his face, sighing and looking back out over the crop. She knew her boss, and she knew that _he_ knew what she was trying to do.

“A little before the war started, we- were talking about getting married, y’know,” Stamets admitted, his hands folded together as his knee jostled up and down. “We were stationed apart for the time being, though, so that wasn’t happening _any_ time soon; I was with Straal before he moved his research to the Glenn while they were putting the finishing touches on Discovery, _he_ was stationed on the USS Earhart. And when the war began, we… just couldn’t. There wasn’t enough time. We’d talked about weddings before: ‘outdoor,’ ‘nothing too big,’ ‘so-and-so from this side of my family’s gotta be there,’ ‘have it be a fall wedding so I don’t get sunburn,’” he joked (joked!), “So we settled on something. You remember in the beginning- couples in Starfleet were allowed to petition being put on the same starship in case anything... bad happened, and for morale strengthening among crewmates,” he told, “so when it came time to christen the Discovery, Hugh submitted his transfer application, and with the hand I had in the ship’s design, the review board was happy to approve his request. So we tried to keep it as professional as we could- in the halls, talking with colleagues, crewmates, even around the Captain… and it worked. It was fun. He got to be the “good doctor,”  I got to be “the scientist,” and there was… a lot of fun in that banter. We were good at it, too. Not _great_ \- I stayed in Engineering way too late, way too many times, he’d have to _make_ me eat, I got mad when he ‘doctored’ too much, but… we were pretty good at it. And we just- wanted to be done with war. He was tired of treating people that were wounded by phaser burns and rescued POWs. I wanted to stop using Discovery, a vessel of… my science, my achievements, my _research_ meant for exploration, as a _weapon_ … we wanted it to be done with fighting and go _on_ with our lives.”

Stamets swallowed.

“Got our wish, I guess. ...At least part of it. And the other part, not-- really going the way we wanted. ...How I wanted, is- what I _should_ say, I guess.”

He swallowed again. A bottom lip jostled.

And her heart sank when his head suddenly lolled downward, a clenched fist holding itself against his mouth and  eyes screwed shut for all they were worth.

Sylvia felt her hands still glued to clutching both sides of the card in her lap and began to, gingerly, peel one off from the mental safety of holding onto something, an open palm floating towards him, his back… and gingerly sat down atop it, near his shoulders, politely giving him a single pat.

And oh boy her hand was definitely stuck there now she was _not_ about to start rubbing circles or pat him multiple times, that was just improper, and… well. She found he wasn’t exactly refusing the touch.

But Sylvia felt his entire body tremble as it was threatened by a possible sob, so her arm relaxed some to offer support to her teacher.

“I’ll get a grip on myself--” he assured, “I-”  
“It’s- it’s fine, it’s fine,” she assured him in a shake of the head, “you’ve been a trooper lately and that was… a lot, just today--”  
“I haven’t done it since he first woke up,” he assured, “and this, this was just-”  
“This was the straw that broke the Paumel’s back.”

He paused, suddenly, giving a hard sniff as he looked back at her with bleary eyes and a face of disbelief.

“...See get it, ‘cause that was a pun, your name ‘Paul’ kinda sounds like ‘camel’ if you say ‘camel’ in a certain way, and uh… yeah that was stupid, sorry.”

Stamets just kinda squinted at her for a moment. God this was it, this was over, she was going to jump out of her own skin and die _right_ there in the mycelia, how could she be saying something like _that_ at a time like _this_?

Relief, suddenly, flooded her when she saw his lips thin to not a look of distaste, but one of humor… and the Commander eventually snorted as he shook his head and looked back out over the Cultivation Chamber.

His smile, whenever people _did_ get to see it, was a really memorable thing.

“I just can’t help it, Ensign,” he admitted as he stared out over the fungi and Sylvia found the perfect opportunity to take her hand back, “can’t help but feel like I- blew whatever chance I’d been given back.”

“The best things sometimes feel like they take the _most_ amount of time, Commander,” she told him. “I… don’t wanna speak _for_ him, Doctor Culber’s got his own free will and everything, but… I told May that I believe the universe has a way of bringing people together. That it'll do it again, again, and again. Multiple times. ...And I think I can believe that it’ll do the same for you, Commander. You’re kinda linked to the fabric of it in a special way, after all, so you got that goin’,” she tried to humor. “Just- give him space for now. And I know that’s-- probably really, really hard to hear, especially what you’ve been through, but he’s-- gonna realize how much this means to you. And how much you mean to him. And for the rest of us, I’ll… figure out a good time to give those to him, ok? ...You guys _did_ kinda conquer death by the power of gay love, so. ... _And_ find your way out of a parallel universe’s Mycelial Network, _and_ drive the ship home, so--”  

That last bit got a little bashful smile out of him.

“Yeah… We did.”

“You’ve told us stories about your times together. Maybe- offer to make some new memories with him when he comes around, Commander.”

She didn’t have the heart to add “ _if_ he comes around” right now.

“...I’ve certainly made a bunch of new memories on Discovery. And I’m better because of them.”

Finally, that seemed to even out her boss’ expression.

And for once, Sylvia was happy to marinate in silence, allowing the gentle chimes of the spores, fungi, and other mycelial life to waft their worries away in their own little window to the network.

After a minute or two, the PADD at Sylvia’s side gave a pleasant little chime.

“Oop, diagnostic’s done,” she yawned, stretching an arm above her head. “I’ll head back and review those numbers… how much longer you gonna stay in here for?”  
“No more than another hour,” he yawned after catching her own. “I’m still sad, but I have a thesis to edit while it’s encrypted now that we’re on the run.”  
“And I’ll be up at at ‘em bright and early,” she told, getting up with a grunt with the PADD at her side. She offered a hand to the Commander as he was turning to get up, pulling her boss up with a tug as he put his own PADD away and looked down to her with a bittersweet melancholy in his eyes.  
“I suppose I needed that,” the Commander told her. “Thank you.”  
“No problem Chief,” she allotted. “We all need it sometimes.”

The two stood there for a moment.

It wasn’t right to just… leave him like this, was it?

Michael has said she’d done it once with him before that time loop, right? And the group hug after they left the cube together, right? She was gonna go for it, move to give not _just_ a pat on the back, but a hug, an _actual_ hug; she stepped one step closer and moved her arms out a bit, just an indicator to make sure this was alright and he got the clue she was going for it, and oh shit suddenly Commander Stamets was reciprocating that hug with a polite, yet comfort-needing strength.

Yeah, he was still the best fucking boss ever.

“Get some sleep Kiddo, alright?” he told her as he pulled off, his eyes looking a little bleary but all proud despite it. “I have a feeling Engineering might be pulling some extra numbers tomorrow if we’re gonna need to stay outta Starfleet’s sight.”  
“To be fair, I’ll take this situation over being stuck in Terran universe hell _any_ day,” she tried to humor.  
“Agreed. Now goodnight- leave me to my fields in peace…”  
“A horse, your mycelial kingdom for a horse and a good night’s sleep,” she called back in an overdramatic fashion.

And with that, the doors to the Cultivation Chamber wooshed closed, Sylvia scuttling towards her console to log the diagnostic numbers… and she took three steps before pulling out her personal PADD, tapping furiously to Burnham.

_ <MICHAAAAAAEL ARE YOU STILL ON DUTY> _

It took a couple minutes for her to reply.

 _BURNHAM: <Ten minutes left for Alpha shift and then I’m going to check on Spock before I retire. Why, are you alright?> _ _  
_

She transferred her PADD’s messaging to her large Engineering console for easier typing while doing work. _ <Yes and no I just have a lot of feelings to feel and I’m extra sad now b/c I saw the Commander in Engineering but also happy???> _ _  
_

_BURNHAM: <Get some tea on your way back to quarters; you’ve made me excited to get off now.>_

_< cool I’ll be done taking these diagnostic numbers in 10, too- see you soon :))) what kind of tea do you want>_

_< Peppermint, please; half sweet.>_


End file.
